best friends
by Irrwisch
Summary: Loving someone is difficult, especially if you're not even sure they know you're a person. Maybe it would be easier if you were best friends, but as it stands, you're not even sure you qualify as friends at all. But maybe not being best friends at all isn't that bad...


You're not his best friend.

And yet, you're in love with him.

It's a trope you've read and heard a thousand times: best friends from childhood on fall in love and live happily ever after. It's not a trope that would ever apply to you and him.

You're not best friends; and you don't know each other from childhood on. In fact, you were only able to join his life a few years ago. At times, you're not even sure you're friends at all: you know there are outings you never ever hear about. Sometimes he tells you it's because he knows you wouldn't enjoy it; or because it's too late or too far away or it was something only for family and very close friends.

You know he's sad sometimes, because he's human, so you offered your ear whenever he would need it. He laughed and said he wouldn't bother you with it. You know he bothers others with it. You've seen him sad; and the next day you've seen him being happier. You've seen him sharing secret laughs with Charlie and you wish you and he would share these secret laughs. You wish you could soothe his pain, but he wouldn't let you. You only want to make him happy, but you can't. Maybe, you think, it's because you would be no good for him.

You're lucky, you know that. The fact alone that such a wonderful being knows your name and admits knowing and perhaps even liking you, is a miracle in itself. It was pure chance that you slid into this group of friends and now you never want to fall out of it. You don't like every single one of them – even though they're all fine people – but you know you would take people a thousand times worse if it meant being in his space.

Years ago, you were sitting in a rather large booth in a bar – the bar itself had been packed and you didn't wish to squeeze yourself in between to burly guys. The bar was full, but as it was yet rather early, it hadn't been too loud yet. You haven't been feeling very well that day, nursing your fourth beer but it wasn't _doing anything_ and you contemplated just going home and maybe hammer yourself with vodka and whiskey where you wouldn't endanger anyone with unsafe driving. Then they came in. They were loud and laughing and you hoped they wouldn't give you a headache. At least it wasn't drunk laughing, so that was good. Maybe they would even leave again, seeing as there were no free booths left.

"Hey, mind if we join you?" they asked and you looked up and there he was and you couldn't say no. So they slid in with you, laughing and introducing themselves and they were warm and good and distracting. You wanted to stay with them, so you opted for being brave and asked how often they met here and if you could join up. They were buzzed when you asked, so they said yes. Some days you wonder: if they hadn't been buzzed, if they still would have said yes. But you don't question it; and just tag along. You can't be told no if you never ask.

At night in your bed at home, you smooch your pillow and whisper his name. It's stupid, but you do it anyway. You wonder what it would be like if he was actually here. Would he like to cuddle? It's a fantasy, so you suppose anything goes. In your bed, at home, everything is possible, so Dean can love you here. It's comforting and it makes you smile as many times as it makes you cry. The Dean of your dreams while be gone when you wake up. And sometimes, even Dream-Dean turns away from you, because you've been feeling shitty all day.

You look in the mirror and wonder what you could change to be more appealing. Maybe you should buy some cool clothes, but you don't have any fashion sense and you don't even what cool is supposed to mean these days. Maybe Band T-Shirts were cool? But you mostly listen to Pop songs or Choir or Orchestra. You're pretty sure a Taylor Swift-Shirt isn't going to improve anything. You tug on your hair. Maybe something needs to be done with that? You're too old to colour it spectacularly and you're fairly certain Dean is too old to appreciate that too. You're not even a woman, so you can't even use make-up to improve your face.

Maybe that's your biggest flaw, you think.

To be a man.

There's a girl, and she's been kissing him. You always thought that would make you angry, but instead it makes you sad. He laughs and smiles and she laughs and smiles and you can't hate her, because she's making him happy. She's not even ugly; or stupid. You're at the bar again, and it's the third times she's joined you and now she's getting comfortable. She's already having better connection to Dean's friends that you do and it makes you even sadder. Something tugs in your chest and you apologise yourself to the bathroom and Garth asks if you're okay. Garth is nice, nice to everyone, so you hate lying to him but what else should you do?

You escape to the bathroom and lock yourself in the stall and start to cry. In movies, or shows, someone would come looking for you. You low-key hoped that would happen; that he would notice and come here and tell you not to cry anymore. It doesn't happen and you keep crying, because he's happy, so you should be happy, but you're not. You want to be loved; you want to make him happy. You could.

You know you couldn't.

When you come back out again, they're already gone.

You go home and get hammered, and Dream-Dean doesn't come to you. He's busy with his girlfriend.

Every magazine, every online-forum is telling you to drop him, to move on. Love like that isn't healthy; it'll just destroy you in the end. You know that, as you stare down on the question of 13-year-old Sophie who pines over a guy she can't have. The magazine is telling her to let him go, she's still young, she'll find someone better easily. You know this as you turn to the internet that tells you the same. Get rejected, move on. But you can't. They don't understand. Dean is everything and you're not worthy of being loved anyway.

 _I love you_ , you type on your phone. You never send the message and you delete it right away. You talk to the mirror, and the Dean in the mirror takes your advances and he's happy. You're pathetic, you think. You smash the mirror. You don't bother taking care of your hand.

A month later, Dean says he'll take five friends with him on a trip to a cabin on the mountains. There's only room for five, so they're gonna do a lottery. You think this lottery might only get two names, because for sure Sam, Charlie and the girlfriend are a given, but he says he'll draw five names. That would give you five chances to be drawn. You get all excited and hope against hope. In truth, you don't really have the time or the energy for it – you've been rather tired lately – but it would mean to see Dean every day, all day. It would be as close to paradise as you could get.

The first name is Garth. He says he's coming in package with Mr. Fizzles, and if that would be okay and Dean groans but gives Garth the go-ahead. The next one is Benny and they fist-bump. You get anxious with each name, because your chance rapidly decreases. Then come Jo, then Charlie. Your shoulders sag. There's no way you come in clutch. Dean will cave and say the last spot's for his girlfriend. It would've been a dream, so now it will stay one. It also means you won't be able to see him for awhile. You already wish he'd come back.

"And the last spot goes toooo... Cass!"

Maybe you died and went to heaven. Dean laughs like he's happy and kissing the girlfriend and punching Sam in the shoulder. He doesn't retract his drawings. You're almost buzzing off your seat and you hope nobody notices it. You're so happy you could die right now. You hope you don't. Garth offers you his hand in a high-five and you take it. Garth smiles broadly, so you hope you did it right. You almost feel good enough to reach over and grab Dean and kiss him. You think, later, it's a good thing you didn't.

You, Dean and Charlie drive in one car, while Benny, Garth and Jo share the other. You have no idea how you landed that pole position, but you're not going to question it. You can't be told to go away if you don't make yourself heard. You have to drive about three hours with pit-stops every hour. They have walkie-talkies, because Charlie insisted, so they can communicate while driving. Dean rolled his eyes, but Charlie didn't deter. She kicked him in the shin and he agreed to everything she said – you think it's because she's threatened to kick his balls next.

So you're sitting in the backseat and since Charlie's in control of the map, you have the walkie-talkie. It makes you feel good, important. It feels like you're actually supposed to be here, and not just by a horrifying mistake. It also helps that Garth has the other one, because Garth is always nice and easy to talk to. While you drive, you listen to Dean and Charlie bicker. You wonder if they would be a couple if Charlie wasn't gay. Charlie's nice. She turns around to include you in the conversation every once in a while. It feels so nice. For the first time, you feel like you're actually friends and that you're not just here by mere accident.

The cabin has one big living space, and outside is a place for a bonfire and you hope you get to do that. You really hoped you would be able to bunk with Dean, but he will share his room with Benny. Charlie and Jo will share a room, so you stick with Garth (and Mr. Fizzles). It's not what you wished for, but at least you're here. And you even like Mr. Fizzles; he's very easy to talk to.

The first evening, you get a bonfire going and you're excited. You haven't done bonfires since The Camp, so you hope this will be a pleasant experience. You're determined to sit next to Dean, so as soon as he sits down, you throw your jacket on the ground next to him. He doesn't even complain and you're in heaven. And you get to eat marshmallows, too! While, yes, you sit a bit too close to Dean than should be acceptable, you don't care because he doesn't shy away from you. The temptation to just lay your head on his shoulder is quite big and you're contemplating it a lot during the fire. You don't, in the end, because you know it wouldn't have ended nice. This is supposed to be fun; you don't want to be rejected here.

The next day, you want to go hiking and you ask Dean to join you. He says no, so you ask again. He doesn't want to go, and then he turns away. He seems weird and you wonder if that's because you sat so close to him last night. At the fire, you've been warm and happy, and now it feels like a stone in the pit of your stomach. You say sorry, and you go hiking alone. It's cold, and a lot less fun than you thought. You're sure if Dean would be here, it'd be more fun. But you keep soldiering on. You hike until the sun starts to set and you have to turn around. You take a picture of yourself and know it would look better if Dean was here too.

When you come back from your hike, the cabin door is locked. You rattle the door a few times and shout for the others, but nobody answers you. You look beneath the doormat for a key, but there's none. You look around the house, on the windowsills, and under pots for obvious hiding places, but there's no key to be found. You don't know what to think of that and you can only hope that they'll come back soon. You look at your phone, but as you expected, you have no signal here. So you sit in front of the door, barring any other possibilities and wait for your friends to return.

It's very cold.

"Cass?! Oh my God, oh fuck, Castiel, say something!" Someone's rattling you. It's so cold. Did you fall asleep? You shouldn't have done that. It's dangerous to sleep in the cold. "Oh shit, I didn't give you a key, did I? Fuck, buddy, I'm so sorry, don't be dead, fuck- ". You think that might be Dean. "Dean", you say and someone lifts you up. There's something warm in front of you and you reach for it. Dean, please let it be Dean. If you have to die, you at least want to be with Dean until the end. Somebody undresses you and you almost protest. You shouldn't get naked in the cold. But when you open your eyes, the light is a bit yellow, so you might even be inside the cabin. Your friends came back. Somebody is wrapping you in something warm and you immediately feel a bit better. There's someone patting your hair and that feels nice. You wonder if Dean would like that too. "I sure would, buddy." Huh. Have you been speaking out loud? You're not sure if you even really care anymore. So you decide to sleep, because you'll care again tomorrow.

The next day, they make you tea and put the furnace next to you. They all fuss over you like you're their valued friend and you soak it all in. You know it's not gonna repeat itself anytime soon. Dean's doting on you and you bask in it. It's almost like Dream-Dean is real. He brings you tea and smiles and sits next to you and tells you what they did. He always repeats how sorry he is; how he was certain he gave you a key and that he's so happy you didn't die. It is okay; you tell him and put your hand on his shoulder and Dean smiles at you and you wish this moment would never end. You relish every second of it, so Dream-Dean can keep doing this.

You don't go outside much after that. And if you do, someone always goes with you. It's a very nice feeling, and you're sad that you drive home in two days time. On your last day, you have a bonfire again and you're only allowed if you're wrapped in three blankets. You don't mind, really. It's cosy and warm and you managed to sit next to Dean again. You eat marshmallows again and you're warm, and content, and thankful.

You go home, and that warm feeling disappears very quickly. Your boss tells you he's contemplating firing you if you don't show results. You see your cracked mirror again and remember why you smashed it. Dream-Dean isn't happy seeing you; he's off with his girlfriend. The time at the cabin truly feels like a dream and you're not very happy about it. You try to be better at your job, but it just doesn't work and your boss tells you to leave, with little preamble. You're not sure what to do now. You have about enough money to keep your home for about two months, so you need a new job fast, but you're old and you've only ever worked one job and you stare at your blank document, wondering what you should tell them to hire you.

You're boring, and pathetic, and you don't have any friends, and you don't really deserve anything in the first place. Even your imaginary boyfriend left you to be with his girlfriend. You stare down at your hands and wonder what will happen now. In movies, and shows, and books, it would rain outside, but it's a nice, warm, sunny day.

You have to save money, so you decide to skip as much food as you can. It would probably be best if you stayed in bed all day, so you would save money that way, too. Maybe Dream-Dean would pity you and come back?

It doesn't take very long before you start feeling dizzy and disorientated all the time. You don't use your car anymore, and opt to walk everywhere. Yes, it takes longer, but it saves you from buying gas. You've send out a few applications, but so far you've only received rejections in return. That's okay, you weren't expecting anything. You meet up with your friends, but you don't order alcohol anymore. It's too expensive, and water is probably better anyway. You're tired and maybe it wasn't a good idea to go out. But Dean is here, and you can try to feel a bit warm, if even just for a moment.

You even manage to stay until the end. You wonder if you should have told them that you lost your job and would be homeless in about three months. You don't want to; they'd surely think you even more pathetic than you really are. Bring people don't lose their boring jobs; they are stuck with them forever. Or at least, the boring person turns out to be not boring at all and finds a very exciting job that they've always wanted.

You're not such a secretly interesting person. You're boring, always have been, always will be. When the bar closes, you stand up on shaking legs. You wonder how you'll get home. Maybe you should've eaten something this week. The pretzels from the basket surely weren't enough, but you had food last week, so you couldn't cave just yet. The pretzels just would _have_ to be enough. You stumble out of the bar and someone catches you before you trip. You hope it is Garth. "Hey, buddy, you okay? You didn't drink anything, you getting sick?" Oh god, it was Dean. You start to panic. You know you've lost weight rapidly in the last four weeks, and you don't him to find out. But you don't want to _lie_ to him. You have to get him away. Your heart beats too fast and you just blurt something out. "I love you."

Yes. That should be enough to get him to flee in terror. Castiel, the boring, stupid, pathetic person, in love with Dean Winchester? You hate to use that because you know it's gonna change everything. Dean's going to hate you. Maybe you can't ever see him or his friends again. That's okay, you didn't expect anything else. You'll always have that memory from the cabin and maybe you die soon, and maybe in heaven you can have all the things you ever wanted on earth.

Instead of running and screaming in terror, Dean pulls you close and you sag against him. You should've known. Dean is too nice to slap you in the face. He's gonna do it slowly, see you less and less and thinking he's being nice to you. He picks you up and you really like that and he sits you in his car and then he drives you to his home. He gets you up the stairs, he makes you some tea because he knows you like it and sits next to you, holding you close. You didn't expect anything like that, but it's nice. In the end, Dean never tells you to leave, so you stay. He smiles when you call it home and he holds you close every chance he gets.

Yeah, you're not his best friend.

But maybe that's not as bad as you thought.


End file.
